


Mithrim

by WarriorEowyn



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Repentance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-23 12:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorEowyn/pseuds/WarriorEowyn
Summary: Three conversations, after Fingon's rescue of Maedhros.
Relationships: Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë & Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon | Findekáno & Maedhros | Maitimo, Maedhros | Maitimo & Maglor | Makalaurë
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66
Collections: The Tolkien Decameron Project





	Mithrim

“...recall some pity,” Fingon had said, and Maedhros has wondered at his delusion. _Did you not hear the Doom, cousin? We have forsaken the Valar, and they have forsaken us._ Then the Eagle came.

*****

He wandered long between sleep, nightmare, and delerium, but when he awoke it was to find Maglor sitting in a chair next to his bed. There were used plates and cups beside him, and an air of long watching without sleep or rest, yet from the moment Maedhros opened his eyes his brother seemed unwilling to meet his gaze.

“How are you feeling?”

Maedhros took a moment to consider. “Suprisingly well. Not in pain. How long has it been?”

“The healers have been tending you around the clock for nearly a month. Four days ago they said they’d done all they could and you mainly needed rest. Yesterday I convinced Fingon to get some sleep, on the basis that it would be rather ironic if he greeted your recovery by falling unconscious from exhaustion.” Maglor’s gaze slipped to the floor and the deliberately-light tone left his voice. “First time he’s been willing to leave me alone with you since he arrived.” He clenched his jaw and words came in a burst. “I know I’m a coward and I know what you must think of me -”

This needed to stop. Immediately. “Maglor. _Look at me._ ” The commanding tone came with the ease of instinct, and Maglor slowly met his eyes. “ _Thank you._ Thank you for keeping our people safe. Thank you for not leading them on a reckless mission that would get them killed or captured, like I did.”

“I could have tried - . Fingon - ”

“Was mad to have attempted it. And had aid that we would never have had. Maglor, there was nothing you could have done. Even if you could have found me without being captured, rather than handing Morgoth another hostage, the most you could have done was kill me. I am alive because of Fingon, and because it was Fingon, and not another.

"I do not even know how he is here. Did they build ships of their own? Even with years for the work, there is little enough timber in Araman.”

Maglor’s gaze slipped back to the floor. “Yes - I mean, no - I mean, it hadn’t occurred to me, but of course, you wouldn’t know. How would you?”

“Maglor, _what_?”

Maglor was biting at both his lips now, and his voice was very low. “They didn’t build ships. They came across the Ice.”

Maedhros’ mind considered the possibility and rejected it. “That’s impossible.”

“I know. They did it anyway. It cost them years, all their horses, and a tenth of their people, but they did it.”

For long moments the words refused to register, as though his mind was fighting againt this knowledge, and the knowledge was fighting its way in. _A tenth of their people._

“They should hate us! We have killed them. They should want us dead. Maglor - “ another terrible thought following on the heels of this “- has there been violence?”

“A few minor incidents. No deaths. Fingon went looking for you in part to head off anything worse.”

Well. Given the circumstances, that made a great deal more sense than any other motivation.

“You didn’t kill them, Maedhros. You didn’t burn the ships. That was us. And I knew we were wrong, and I knew you were right, and I didn’t -” Maglor was biting at his lips again. “You know I don’t like to defy father.”

No one in their right mind had _liked_ to defy Fëanor, especially when he was in a rage.

“There’s no difference between us. I did nothing to stop it. I watched them burn, and I did nothing, and thousands of our people are dead because of it. Believe me, Maglor, we are all the same in what we have done.

“But this time, I need you on my side. I think - I think I am beginning to realize what will be needed to unite our people. Our brothers will not like it. You may not like it. But I need you with me. Do I have your support?”

“You are my king.”

“Not for long. Do I have your support?”

Maglor at last met his eyes, his face set. “Yes. Always, and in everything.”

*****

The next conversation would not be so easy. He scarcely knew how to face Fingon, save that he could not doing it lying in bed, like an invalid. He had just managed to drag himself to his feet when FIngon entered the room.

Maedhros made it three steps before yielding to the impulse of both body and spirit and collapsing at his friend’s feet. Fingon caught him before he hit the ground.

“Maedhros, you only just woke up! You should be in bed! Here -” Fingon instinctively reached for his now-missing hand before stopping with a wince. “Maedhros, I’m sorry, I couldn’t find any other way -”

Maedhros’ voice abruptly returned. “You’re _sorry_?” Fingon looked almost frightened at his tone. “You save my life and you say you are sorry? After I have betrayed you? It was bad enough when I thought I was abandoning you to the judgement of the Valar for deeds I led you into! We put you through torment, we sent you to your deaths, and all without cause! And you say you are sorry about my hand? You could with more justice have buried your blade in my throat!”

Fingon’s voice shook. “Do you want to be dead?”

“No - I am very grateful to be alive! - but I cannot imagine how you do not wish me dead! We have done you worse hurt than Morgoth. Fingon, you should hate me!”

“I was angry - for a long time. I tried to tell myself I didn’t care what happened to you. But I couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering. I forgive you. I forgave you before I left to find you, or I couldn’t have done it.”

The offer of a crown that he had never deserved in the first place felt lke a small and paltry thing. His voice came quiet and fervent. “I could live until the end of Arda, and serve you all of my days, and never repay you for this.” He slipped from Fingon’s embrace and bowed his head to the floor at his friend’s feet.

“There is no repayment. I forgive you.” He pulled Maedhros back into an embrace. “I forgive you. I forgive you. I will keep saying it as often as you need to hear it.”

Maedhros could feel himself trembling. “You are a better friend than I ever could or ever will deserve.” He forced his thoughts back to what needed to be done. “I cannot atone for our deeds, but I can try to heal the divide between our people. Do you think you can convince your father to speak to me?”

“I would give it a week - both for me to convince him, and for you to be able to stand on your feet. What do you intend to say?”

“To offer him my apologies, and the kingship - though I do not want him to know the latter until I say it. And I will need the time to convince the rest of my family as well.”

*****

That day was the first time Maedhros had seen the new sun unclouded by the smokes of Thangorodrim. From the window in his room, he watched it set in a glory of orange and purple.

It was not only Fingon who had offered him mercy and rescue far beyond his deserving. He leaned his head against the windowpane. His voice was scarely a whisper.

“ _Thank you._

 _I am sorry_.

 _I will do better._ ”

*****

The journey to Fingolfin’s camp took hours, although it was only five miles. Maedhros refused the use of horses as diplomatically insensitive, and moved slowly even with an arm around Fingon’s shoulders the whole way.

“I could carry you,” Fingon suggested at one point.

“I think the difference in our heights would present a problem.”

“The difference in our heights is _already_ presenting a problem.” Maedhros had to hunch over considerably to maintain the arrangement, or else find places where the path was on a slope.

They managed it in time, though, and once they had reached the camp Maedhros was able to walk unaided to the house where Fingolfin had agreed to meet him.

Fingolfin was less than delighted with the meeting.

“What did you want to say to me?”

“That we were wrong. That I am sorry. That I will be grateful to Fingon as long as I live.”

“Very well. I hear you. Was there anything else?”

“That our people need to be one. That we cannot fight the war against Morgoth in two divided camps, much less ones that are scarcely on speaking terms. We need united leadership.”

“Ah.” Fingolfin’s look was knowing. “So this _is_ about the succession.”

“Yes.” Maedhros held his uncle’s gaze. “I am here to offer my fealty to the King of the Noldor.” He went to his knees. “You have my life, my loyalty, and my service from this day until my death, if you will accept it.” He paused deliberately. “Where you lead, I will follow.”

“Any why should I desire the pledged loyalty of one who has already betrayed us?”

Maedhros forced himself to keep his voice steady. The question was not unjust. “I can only hope that you will permit me to earn your trust.”

Fingolfin turned away. “Stand.” Maedhros stood. “Why are you doing this?”

“In the first place, because our people need unified leadership, as I said. Yours will never follow me, nor should they. Even if they could be convinced to do so, they would not trust us to value their lives as their own, not after what we have done to them. Can we fight battles with an army that will ever be wondering if we have given them more dangerous positions to safeguard the lives of our own men? It would cripple the war effort from the start.

“Our people _will_ follow you, if we lead them to do so. Your achievements were already much admired even before Fingon rescued me; now they are more so. If you treat them fairly and equally to your own, you will have their loyalty. You and your son already have mine, unconditionally and in every need; it is the very least that I can offer.

“In the second place, it can scarcely be denied that you have shown better leadership than I have. It is difficult to convince a great people to place all their faith in a king whose sole accomplishment was getting himself captured.

“And in the third place...”

Maedhros broke off. This was the hardest to say, and he had never been used to speak frankly on such matters. He paced the length of the house, once, then twice, trying to gather his words. He noticed that Fingolfin was looking at him with more concern, almost with pity, and as Fingolfin’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword he realized what his uncle must be thinking.

“No. It is not that. He did not break me. Granted, that is what you could expect a released captive to say in any event, and there is no way of proving that my rescue was not deliberately permitted. But if the Enemy had intended me to escape, I cannot believe that he would have placed me where the intervention of the Valar was required for my rescue. The merciless has no comprehension of mercy.”

He saw Fingolfin relax. “I cannot fault your logic. I do not deny that I wondered if my son had not been reckless, but I can trust the judgement of the Lord of the Skies.”

Maedhros let out a deep breath. “That is what I was trying to speak of. The wrath of the Valar is upon the House of Fëanor and those that follow it, but it seems that your family has not entirely lost their grace. At Fingon’s prayer, they have given me back my life, which is far more than I deserved of them; I submit to their judgement. The Noldor will no longer follow the House of Fëanor. The Doom has already proved less immutable than I thought; perhaps it can still be set aside.

“I would ask you not to speak of this to others. My family do not all see matters as I do, and they would take the decision more ill if they knew my thought.”

Fingolfin looked rather stunned. Especially in the later years, the Fëanorians were not known for devoutness. “I believe you are sincere. And I thank you for seeking to unify our peoples. I hope you can believe that I never sought the kingship for my own sake, but I agree that I did not think my people would follow the House of Fëanor after what they have suffered.

“We can arrange a more formal ceremony at a later date, but for the present I accept your offer and your apology. Until the camps can be reordered into one settlement, we will need to institute more regular meetings between commanders to share intelligence.”

“For the moment, you look exhausted and my son bid me to be careful of your health. Please, sit. I will have food and drink brought.”

He waved Maedhros towards one chair at a small table, and seated himself at the other.

“An easy enough first command, my king. Have you any others?”

Fingolfin’s face turned weary, and many of the stern lines softened out of it. “One, if you are willing, and I fear you may find it more difficult than all the rest of this negotiation.

“Tell me how my brother died.”


End file.
